band-aids don't fix bullet holes

{8} you know I can

Taylor's POV:

I feel my chest rise and fall, trying to keep my balance. Slowly I set one foot in front of the other. "It' s only a few meters..." I tell myself.
Of course the paparazzi are all around me and I know I can't afford to make any kind of scene. Security tries so shield me, just as always and as good as they can. I'm not going to deny that I hardly recognize anything due to my blurry vision but I finally reach the car, the driver, who's name is Jim by the way, opens the door for me and I crawl into the backseat.
"Do you think they noticed?" I stammer to Tree, who just got into the seat next to me, but the redhead just shrugs her shoulders before rubbing her temples.
"I don't know but you're making my job quite hard, Swift."

We spend the rest of the car ride in silence, which I'm honestly not upset about since I' m fighting to keep my eyes open, the tiredness having washed over me.
When the car comes to a stop in front of my house, my publicist turns to me.
"Will you be okay on your own?" She asks while carefully placing a hand on my shoulder.

"Do I have a choice?" My voice is quiet and Tree just grimaces empathetically. "Anyways, thanks Jimmy. Goodnight, Tree."

I manage to get out of the car without major difficulties and proceed to stumble to my front door, while fiddling in my bag for the keys. It takes two whole minutes for me to stick the keys into the lock of the door, the car now finally driving off.
Inside I kick off my shoes and throw my handbag into some corner before peeling myself out of the dress. I immediately head upstairs, completely ignoring my cats who are craving some attention. When I hit the soft fabric of my mattress, it doesn't take much before my eyes close and I drift off into a deep sleep.

———————-

When my eyes flutter open again, I glance at the clock on my nightstand. 11:34am.
"Fucking hell." I mutter reaching for my throbbing head, the taste of alcohol still in my mouth. I force myself out of bed, quickly stepping into a pair of sweatpants and a crop top, earning a purring sound from Olivia when I quickly reach down to crawl her belly, before making my way downstairs to the kitchen, switching on the coffee machine.
I grab a mug and place it under the machine.
I'm glad my memories of last nights events are still there in the back of my mind, because a blackout would've been even worse. It's awful not knowing what you did or said to anyone.
When the coffee is ready I sit down at the table and unlock my phone. Luckily the only message on there is one from Tree.

Tree: Take-off back to London tonight at 7. Jim picks you up 6:30. I'm already heading back now. Hope your hangover's not too bad.

With a sigh I lock the device again and shove it into the pocket of my pants, before nipping on my freshly brewed coffee, that somehow doesn't taste as good as usually. I definitely blame that on the hangover.

I'm really not looking forward to going back to the UK but I know that I simply have no choice. I have to go back. I should be happy about getting to see my boyfriend again anyway, right? I'm sure he'll be happy to see me, at least that's what I'm telling myself although I can't seem to shake off the slight feeling of fear at the thought of him.

The plane touches English ground at around 2pm the next day and of course it's raining. That's probably the thing I hate most about this country; It never seems to be nice weather.

"I'm home." I exclaim as I enter the house but no answer. "Joe?"
I hang up the keys and take off my jacket before searching the house, only to find him sitting at the dining table, a glass of, what looks like whiskey, in front of him.
"I'm home." I repeat a lot quieter now.

"Oh yeah, right." Joe looks up at me, not even trying to force a smile before his eyes drift back to the half empty beverage in front of him. "Had fun?"

"Sure, well I won a Grammy!" I say proudly.

"Good for you." His expression remains the same and I can't help but feel an aching pain in my heart because of the fact that he can't even PRETEND to be happy for me.

"Yeah..." A moment of silence fills the room.
"Why are you drinking Whiskey on a Wednesday afternoon?" I finally ask and sit down next to him, making sure to keep a safe distance though.

"That's none of your business, Taylor." he answers snappy.

"Actually it is. I'm your girlfriend after all."

He clicks his tongue in annoyance.

"Seriously you can tell me, Joe. What's wrong?" I try again when he finally turns his head to catch a glimpse of my face.

"You know what is."

"How would I know?" I inform him and raise my eyebrows in confusion.

"You know how I hate you being out there. It really disturbs me." He tightens his grip around the glass and lifts it up in order to down the rest of it. My heart is pounding recklessly in my chest.

"But it's my job to be out there and you've known that since the day we met."

"I don't care. It has to stop. All this gossip, all these people talking to you and about you, all these annoying fans, all these giant events, with way too much food, all the media constantly reporting about you. I want you to myself! I want you to be my little secret" Joe raises his voice and slams the glass onto the wooden table.

I swallow hard. It's no news that he hates me being public in any way but hearing it like that really makes my stomach twist.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I mumble at the brink of tears.

"I tolerated all this way too long. It's over now. Your career is over. You don't leave the house unless I give you permission to. You delete all your socials and you listen to what I say!"

"But...I...what...you can't..." I stutter and hold on tighter to the edge of the table.

"Don't even try, babe." He silences me, his voice much calmer now. "You know I can."

Uuuuuhhh😏